


So He Did

by JoMouse



Series: Imagine Sterek Events [9]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Angst and Feels, Beaches, Don't copy to another site, Evil Kate Argent, Fluff and Angst, Hospitalization, M/M, Major Character Injury, Sharing a Bed, Sheriff Stilinski's Name is John, Surfer Derek Hale, Walks On The Beach, Warning: Kate Argent, not as dark as it sounds
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-26
Updated: 2020-07-26
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:27:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25537321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JoMouse/pseuds/JoMouse
Summary: Stiles has been working at the Seaside Surf Shop since high school and he's looking forward to another summer with crazy old Finstock, but when he walks in on the first day of the season, he finds a new owner.Derek Hale fled Beacon Hills years earlier when a crazy ex killed his family. Now he's back and still looking over his shoulder.
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Series: Imagine Sterek Events [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1586374
Comments: 21
Kudos: 168
Collections: A Very Sterek Summer fest 2020, Another Present Under the Tree





	So He Did

**Author's Note:**

> Greetings and salutations!
> 
> It's day one of [A Very Sterek Summer](HTTP://averystereksummer.tumblr.com) as well as time for [Imagine-Sterek's Another Preseent Under the Tree](HTTP://imagine-sterek.tumblr.com) event and this story covers both.
> 
> The shared theme is: Beach.
> 
> I always swear my stories will be short and free of backstory and then Kate Argent appears. This one is no different, but I hope you enjoy it.
> 
> Spoilers at the end if you are worried about the Major Character Injury tag.
> 
> Big thanks to Jenn and [Marie](HTTP://quietzap.tumblr.com) for looking over the story. It is only about half beta'd because I'm being a difficult writer again and not finishing things until the last minute, so all mistakes are mine. If you see any glaring spelling or grammar errors, please let me know kindly!
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> xx-Joey
> 
> Don't know 'em. Don't own 'em. Don't show 'em.

Stiles sat on the bench behind the Seaside Surf Shop where he had spent the last three summers working. Today was day one of the fourth summer and he was already wishing for the fall. S3 used to be owned by this crazy man with even crazier hair that lived for quoting movies and acting like every word out of his mouth was original, but let Stiles pretty much make his own schedule and run things the way that worked best for him. He was a great boss and the job was easy.

This summer, he’d walked into the shop, shoving his fluorescent yellow sunglasses up on top of his head to find not Crazy Finstock behind the counter but a man not much older than him and straight out of some of Stiles’ hottest dreams. “Um, excuse me?” he said and the man turned to him, brows raised above a pair of mirrored aviators that should’ve made him look like a douche but the smug smirk did something to Stiles’ stomach.

“Welcome to S3, can I help you with something?” 

“Where’s Finstock?”

The man’s eyes narrowed. “He sold the shop to me.”

Stiles’ shoulders slumped. “So, do I still have a job?” he questioned.

“Depends.” Stiles raised his eyebrows. “On who the hell you are.”

Stiles choked out a laugh. “Sorry, Dude. I’m Stiles. Stiles Stilinski.” He held out a hand that was ignored as the man looked at a clipboard on the counter.

“I have a Stilinski, but the first name isn’t Stiles,” he said.

“That’s me, but Stiles is the only name I’ll answer to,” he said, approaching the counter now that it seemed he still belonged there and despite the lack of humor in the person in front of him, he really needed the paycheck; college was expensive. “And you are, dude?”

“Definitely not dude.” Stiles swallowed a laugh when the man’s eyebrows dropped low across his forehead until they formed a complete ‘v’. “My name is Derek Hale,” he said, slapping the clipboard into Stiles’ outstretched hand and he totally didn’t wince at the contact. The name struck a familiar chord with Stiles but before he could examine it further, Derek kept talking. “This is this week’s schedule based on the availability you gave Finstock last year. If there’s a problem, figure it out for this week and give me your changed availability as soon as possible. The other employees’ numbers are listed there as well in case you need to change something.”

With that he turned to walk away and Stiles stared at the clipboard, shocked to see he was scheduled for the opening shift every other day that week, including Saturday. He’d never had an opening shift on weekends in the past, knowing he’d be too tired from actually having a life on Friday night with his friends. “This Saturday shift-”

“See if someone will cover it for you, otherwise I’ll see you here at eight,” Derek responded, throwing something at him. “This is your uniform shirt. Make sure whatever shorts you wear don’t clash too badly.” He eyed the bright orange board shorts that Stiles was wearing with a slight sneer; the color garish against the odd-blue shade of the polo shirt.

“A uniform? Seriously? What the hell,” Stiles muttered; Finstock had let them wear whatever they wanted as long as it was clean and free of holes.

“If it’s a problem, the door you came through leads back out,” he retorted, disappearing through the door into the office, stepping back out after a moment. “I’ll come out to cover you for your lunch break at eleven.”

Stiles stood frozen in place, staring at the closed door, a million questions running through his mind in a mad dash to be the first one out of his mouth. A muffled, “Get to work,” stopped all thoughts except that he needed a new job and he tugged the ugly shirt over his tank top. Glancing in the mirror next to the sunglass display, he frowned and ran a hand over his hair until he didn’t look like he’d just rolled out of bed into a colorblind nightmare.

He scrolled through his phone, checking job postings until the bell above the door jangled and the customers started strolling in off of the beach. The morning passed quickly in a mad rush of people and before he knew it, the clock hit eleven and Derek reappeared wearing the same uniform shirt Stiles was suffering in. The difference being that he made it look good, the sleeves snug against his biceps as he crossed his arms over his chest and gave Stiles an unimpressed look. “You have an hour.”

“Aye aye, captain,” Stiles muttered as he gave a sarcastic salute and headed out through the stockroom to the backdoor so he could exit closest to the parking lot where the food trucks were set up for the best access to the beachgoers. 

He beelined for the bright green monstrosity that served questionable but delicious Mexican food, grinning when he saw his best friend leaning out the window, one hand as he squinted against the bright sand to the water, eyes on the surfers and he knew that Scott would rather be out there instead of in a heated tin can. 

“Yo, man! Finstock sold the shop,” he said when he walked up, bringing his friend’s attention back to reality. 

Scott grunted but started making Stiles’ food without even being told what he wanted; if Stiles was anything, he was a creature of habit. By the end of the summer, he’ll have eaten nearly his own weight, and probably Scott’s, in tamales and guacamole. 

As well as being a creature of habit, he was also able to keep a conversation going with little to no input from the other person involved. “The guy’s an asshole. I think if he smiled, his face would crack. Like, literally shatter into little bits of perfect complexion all over the place. And can you believe I have to wear a uniform?” He tugged at the chest of the polo shirt, wishing he would throw it into the fryers in Scott’s truck. 

“I’m sure he’s not that bad,” Scott said, grinning, setting the paper boats of food on the shelf in the window. “Maybe he’s just nervous? I mean, he’s probably new to all this, right?”

He shook his head, grinning fondly at Scott. He should’ve expected his friend to give the guy the benefit of the doubt and even worse, he was actually considering his friend’s words. Face falling into a frown of concentration, he took his food and headed to a picnic table within shouting distance of the truck so he could keep talking to Scott without disturbing him too much. When he got settled and was taking a bite of tamale, the crowds started heading towards the food trucks and he knew that any conversation they wanted to have would have to wait until after they were both done working for the day. 

When he was done eating, he noted that he had about twenty minutes left until he had to be back. Under Finstock, he’d never had to watch the clock too closely but he had a feeling that if he were even a minute late that day, he’d be fired. It was less than a two minute walk back to the shop, so he went left instead of right and took the roundabout way back along the water, kicking off his shoes and carrying them in one hand as the tiny ripples washed over his feet, grounding him.

He’d grown up in California, spending every weekend at the beach with his mother until she fell ill when he was nine. They still came to the beach whenever his mom was well enough, even missing school sometimes just because she had enough energy to play in the ocean with him, helping him stand on a surfboard and playing in the tidepools, teaching him about the lifeforms living in the shallow water. 

After she’d died, his dad had tried to continue bringing him to the beach but was distracted by his own grief. Scott’s mom started taking him when she could but she was busy being a single mom as well so one day, then eleven year old Stiles had pulled a bus schedule up on the computer and got himself to the beach. He’d gone five days in a row before his father caught him and started bringing him to the station with him whenever he worked. On the plus side, whenever his dad did have a day off, he would spend it with Stiles at the beach and things started getting back to a new normal that contented them both. 

After Stiles got his driver’s license, his dad’s time at the beach cut back as Stiles’ increased. Getting a job at the surf shop just made sense and Finstock was like a crazy uncle. He wasn’t entirely surprised to find he’d sold the shop that summer, but a small part of Stiles had hoped he’d at least try to sell it to Stiles first; he had money put aside and he was going to school online to earn a business degree. If Finstock had waited another two years, he’d have his degree but he understood Finstock’s desire to get away from business and relax in a cabin in the woods somewhere.

He got so lost in thought that when he came back to himself and glanced at his watch, he gave out a yelp. Hurrying up the beach, he knew he’d easily make it in the five minutes he had left but didn’t want to spend his first ten minutes back panting for breath or sweating through his ugly ass polo shirt. He was hopping through the door, pulling his shoes back on just as his hour ended. 

Derek’s head jerked up at the jingle of the bells and he almost looked amused as he nodded and disappeared into the back again. He counted the lack of reprimand as a win and fist-pumped as soon as the office door swung shut. He was still doing a bit of a victory dance as he ducked behind the counter to grab the duster and started counting the minutes until the day was over.

His phone buzzed fifteen minutes before closing and Stiles started on the closing duties he’d always taken care of in the past, unsure if Derek had any changes but without instructions he could only do what he knew. The weekdays were shorter so it wasn’t unusual to work open to close but he was still exhausted, unused to the hours after only working part-time at the local library during the winter months.

He’d just pulled the cash register open to count out his drawer when Derek reappeared from the back, eyes falling on him, dark and intense. Stiles felt himself tense, wondering if he was breaking some unknown rule, his eyes darting around the shop and trying to find something that would earn that look. He nearly fell off his stool when Derek approached, his face twisting into something that Stiles assumed was supposed to be a smile. 

“How did today go?”

“Decent,” Stiles responded slowly, watching Derek’s face for any twitch that would indicate a burst of anger. “It’s still early in the season, though; school just got out a couple of days ago. As time goes on, things will break or get lost and we’ll get busier.” Derek nodded, holding out a hand to take the drawer from Stiles. He disappeared back into the office before Stiles could respond. 

He waited a minute for him to come back out and when he didn’t, Stiles made a quick round of the store to be sure everything was put away. He fixed a couple of things so they would be ready for Erica the next morning. Before he left, he knocked on the office door, ducking his head inside to find Derek at the desk, papers spread out around him as he stuffed the day’s earnings into a money bag. 

“I’m heading out if you want to come lock up behind me,” he said, voice bright. Derek made a grumbling sound and nodded, pushing to his feet as Stiles moved out of the doorway and headed to the front of the shop.. and called out a farewell, receiving a grunt in reply.

He let himself out the front door, waiting until he saw Derek come up to it and turning the lock. Stiles waved but Derek must not have seen him because he turned back around, fading into the darkness of the shop. 

Hurrying to the parking lot, he pulled the polo off when he was close enough and threw it through an open window of his Jeep. Climbing up on the back bumper, he reached up and unstrapped his surfboard. There was enough light and the waves still crashed enough that he should get a decent ride in; Scott’s board was gone so he was probably already out on the water.

He raced toward the beach, thoughts of Derek fading the closer he got to the water. He kicked his shoes off and left them next to Scott’s stuff. He dropped his phone on top of the pile and ran towards the ocean, board under his arm. He paddled quickly, catching up to where Scott was laying on his back on his board, staring up at the sky. 

“There’s no stars yet,” Stiles teased.

“Clouds,” Scott responded, rolling over onto his stomach and starting to paddle out further, Stiles following until they saw some waves coming towards them.

They stayed out in the water while the sun went down, laughing and splashing each other when one of them wiped out. Once the sky was dark and filled with stars, they floated on their boards closer to shore, watching the sky and letting the tide send them back to the sand. Stiles grinned when Scott took off running, shaking his shaggy black hair all over the girl waiting by their stuff, towels in hand.

“Kira!” Stiles greeted. She and Scott had been together since their sophomore year of high school and although Stiles had gone through a period of jealousy because Scott had ignored him for her, they were all friends now and Stiles loved going to the movies with Kira because she wasn’t bothered by his running commentary or Sno-caps dumped into the popcorn bucket. 

“Hey, Surfer Boys,” she greeted, throwing a towel at Stiles just as Scott tackled her into the sand. 

Stiles didn’t stick around, grabbing his stuff and putting his board under his arm, heading towards the parking lot. He knew Kira would take Scott home and she had a rack for his board on her SUV so he could leave without guilt. His steps faltered when he noticed a light still on in the surf shop. 

Changing direction, he leaned his board against the wall next to the door and cupped his hands to peer through the glass, spotting Derek at the counter. He was bent over a book, elbows on the counter and hands gripped in his hair. While Stiles watched, he tugged on his hair for a minute before reaching over and picking up his phone, staring at the screen before tossing it away on the counter, knocking it off the edge.

Stiles chewed his lip, taking a step back and bumping into his board. It fell to the ground with a clatter and Derek’s head snapped up. When he moved around the counter, Stiles grabbed his stuff and ran for the parking lot as quickly as he could with the bulkiness of his board hindering his movements.

Way too early the next morning, Stiles woke up to his phone buzzing and slapped at the nightstand until he managed to grip it. Squinting, he lifted it over his face, cursing when it slipped out of his grip and smacked him in the eye. He was still holding a hand over it and cursing when his father ducked his head into his room.

“Day off?” he asked and Stiles grunted in the affirmative. “Try to get the lawn mowed then.”

“Sure thing, pops,” Stiles mumbled, rubbing at his eye and forcing himself to sit up as his phone started buzzing again. He saw the name of the S3 on the screen and he glanced at his dad. “Might be a change in plans,” he told him as he accepted the call and pressed the phone to his ear. “Hello.”

“Is this Stiles Stilinksi?” Derek asked, sounding exasperated, a loud noise in the background that sounded suspiciously like the store alarm nearly drowning him out.

“Hey, Derek, what’s going on?” he started rifling through his drawers, trying to find clothes, a sinking suspicion on where this call was going. At least his polo shirt was still in the Jeep.

“Do you have a different number for...Greenberg?” he asked.

Stiles rolled his eyes. “Let me guess, he changed the alarm code and forgot to leave the new one,” Stiles said, chuckling. “Call the alarm company and give them the passcode ‘Greenberg’s a moron’ and they’ll turn it off and let you reset it to something you’ll remember.”

Derek huffed and said something under his breath that Stiles couldn’t make out and didn’t want to bother trying. “If you’re calling me instead of having him do it, I’m guessing he didn’t show up for work.”

“No,”Derek responded, pausing for a moment and taking a deep breath before continuing. “Do you think you can come in? I’ll buy you lunch for the inconvenience.” The offer sounded like it pained him and Stiles couldn’t help grinning in return. 

“It’ll take me about a half an hour, but I’ll be there,” Stiles said, getting ready to hang up when he thought of something. “Do you want me to grab coffee on my way?”

“Won’t that delay you even more?” Derek asked.

“But I’ll be awake when I get there.” He nodded his head from side to side. “Ish.”

“Fine. Black. Please.” He hung up.

“Black as your soul. Got it,” Stiles said, shaking his head as he hung up and prepared to head out for another day of fun with Hale, letting his dad know the change in plans as he scooted out the front door.

Once he arrived, the shop was already crowded and Derek was behind the counter looking overwhelmed. Hurrying, he gave the to-go coffee cup to Derek and shoved him toward the office. He disappeared quickly enough that Stiles fully expected a cloud of dust in his wake. Pasting on a big grin, he turned his attention to the masses, using every trick he knew to keep the crowd happy.

It took him almost an hour to help all of the customers and once the door closed behind the last one, he knocked on the office door and almost laughed when Derek cracked the door open revealing only one ever-changing green eye and a raised eyebrow. “Have no fear, the unwashed masses have departed. It is just you and I, m’lord,” he said, giving an exaggerated bow, smirking when he heard a choked-off laugh from behind the door before it closed again.

He moved around the store, cleaning up the mess left behind by the morning rush. He was trying to figure out how someone had gotten the fiberglass torso off the wall and out of its rash guard when Derek cleared his throat behind him. He barely managed to contain his flail before turning and stepping back as take out menus were thrust into his face. “Pick a place. My orders are circled for all of them.” He also handed over a credit card before turning and disappearing back into the office.

It was still a bit early for lunch so Stiles spent a little more time straightening up before ordering from the thai place down the beach that delivered. He figured if Derek was paying, it would be rude of him to desert him again to go pick up food. He was checking inventory when the food arrived. He knocked on the office door. “Grub’s up!”

“I think I preferred the serf to the sailor,” Derek commented as he exited the office, lips pressed tightly together.

Stiles expected him to grab his food and retreat but he made a detour to the front door, locking it and flipping the sign to closed. He picked up the sign with the clock and made adjustments to it before hanging it in the window. Finally, he grabbed one of the stools behind the counter and settled in next to Stiles, grabbing the bags and distributing the food while Stiles stared at him in shock.

He had taken a few bites of his Pad See Ew and turned to Stiles with raised eyebrows before jerking his chin towards the bags. “We’re only closed for a half an hour. If you don’t start eating, you won’t get to finish.”

Those words got Stiles moving and he grabbed his Squid Pad Thai out, using the chopsticks to shove a large bite of noodles in his mouth, grinning around them at Derek who rolled his eyes. “Were you raised in a barn?”

“Sheriff’s station,” Stiles responded after swallowing and before shoving in another mouthful.

“Got into that much trouble?” Derek asked, eating a lot more neatly than Stiles but still with as much gusto.

“Dad’s the Sheriff.”

Derek pursed his lips for a minute and then nodded. “I remember him. Nice man.”

Stiles opened his mouth to question the statement when an image flashed through his mind of a teenager sitting on the couch in his dad’s office while Stiles hid in the corner by a filing cabinet. His father didn’t know he was there, he’d taken the bus and come in and Tara, one of the deputies, had guided him into his dad’s office. He’d planned on jumping out and surprising him but instead he’d frozen in place when his dad had led a boy with tear-stained cheeks in and settled him on the sofa where Stiles sometimes slept. The boy had picked up Stiles’ stuffed fox that he left there when the nights got really bad and hugged it to his chests, burying his face in the soft fur of his neck.

Stiles had watched while his father had consoled the boy and stayed quiet until a girl a few years older than him came running into the office, her face as tear-streaked as his and took him out of the office, thanking John. When the door closed behind her, his father had called him out of his hiding place and grabbed him by the back of the neck and tugged him into a hug, holding him long and hard and then telling him to go to bed. Stiles had laid on the sofa, holding his fox, running his fingers over the soft fur trying to figure out what had happened.

He hadn’t thought about the night in years, forgotten in the memory banks of a kid who had too much on his mind and too much energy in his body. Sitting next to Derek, he looked up at him and realized the sad teenager had been Derek. He wanted to say something, but he didn’t know if he’d even realized Stiles had been in the office or if he’d like to revisit that memory because if Stiles were in his shoes, he’s fairly certain he wouldn’t.

They finished their lunches in silence and Stiles made sure to thank him for lunch, getting a grunt in acknowledgement before he headed back into the office. Stiles spent as much time that afternoon staring at the door to the office as he did helping customers. He was really happy to see Erica when she came in at three to take over the last few hours. 

He knocked on the office door to tell Derek he was leaving. “Come in for a minute, Stiles,” Derek called and Stiles exchanged a look with Erica who shrugged and gestured for him to go inside as the bell over the door ran and Erica’s boyfriend walked in and headed for the new merchandise.

“I was just getting ready to head out,” he told Derek, standing in the doorway and moving to sit when Derek gestured to one of the chairs across the desk from his. “Thanks again for lunch.”

“Thank you for coming in,” Derek responded, flipping through a few papers in front of him and cursing as he shoved them out of the way and reached for another stack. “You can take Saturday off if you’d like.”

Stiles shrugged. “Do you have someone to cover?” He tried to think over who else was still on teh schedule and unless Greenburg was stupid enough to show up after today’s debacle, there wasn’t anyone who would be willing to work. 

“I can handle it,” Derek said, shifting another couple sheets of paper and Stiles reached out to catch the stack that fell off the desk on his side.

“Dude, I’ll work it. You looked like you were going to kill someone this morning after just an hour, I can’t imagine a full shift; there might not be a store for me to come back to on Monday.” Stiles smirked when Derek shook his head, waiting to be reprimanded.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said instead and Stiles nodded, heading out the door. “And don’t call me ‘dude’,” he called just as Stiles closed the office door and Stiles couldn’t hold back his bark of laughter. 

His dad was sitting at the table, files spread out around him, when Stiles let himself into the house, arms full of grocery bags. His dad stood to take one of the bags to lighten the load and as they put the food away, Stiles glanced over at the table full of paperwork. “New case?”

His father gave him the patented, “I can’t talk to you about that” look but shook his head. 

“Cold case, then,” Stiles said, moving to the table and grabbing a folder and dancing out of his dad’s way when he reached for it with one hand while smacking him on the butt with a cereal box. 

He wasn’t really going to try and read the file but then his eye was caught by a name and phone number on a post-it note stapled to the front of the file. “Why is my boss’ name on the front of this casefile?” 

“Finstock?” his dad asked, grabbing for the file and playing tug-of-war with Stiles before giving up with a sigh, something Stiles suspected he knew was going to happen at some point as soon as he brought the files home.

“No, Derek Hale. He bought S3.” He hated that his dad worked so much, he never knew what or how much he’d been able to tell him in the weekly dinners they made sure to share, that night being one of those nights.

His father frowned and ran a hand over his face. “You don’t remember, do you?” Stiles shook his head and opened the file, slowly, still waiting for it to be snatched out of his hand and freezing as more memories came flooding back. A crime scene photo of a house, or what used to be a house, then a blackened shell haunting even in the technical photograph. 

“The fire,” Stiles breathed out and then smacked the folder against his forehead. “The  _ Hale _ fire.” He’d overheard his father talking about it but hadn’t paid a lot of attention because he was a pre-teen who was interested in crime but more interested in video games. Nearly an entire family wiped out during a family reunion, a gas leak was blamed and people mourned. The survivors, two teens and an adult male, moved away. Time moved on and Stiles forgot.

“It was an accident, right? A gas leak?” Stiles said. “Why are you looking at the files?” He knew his father, knew the look on his face as he finally managed to get the file away from him, that something about the case bothered him. There was something that he hadn’t let go of in the years since the fire.

“Derek was in your office,” he said, sharing the memory he’d had that night and the Sheriff nodded. “He was upset but didn’t say anything.”

“He showed up at the station saying the fire wasn’t an accident but when I took him into my office to talk to him, he didn’t say anything. I tried to find out what he needed to tell me but he remained mute and then left without revealing himself, moving to New York with his uncle and sister the next day.” The Sheriff tapped the file against his hand before dropping it on the table. “He called me recently and left his number but didn’t mention he was back in town and hasn’t answered any of my return calls.”

Stiles’ brain went into overdrive dissecting all of the new information and trying to make sense of it; he had a feeling his father was doing the same and wouldn’t be surprised to see him showing up at the shop the next day to corner Derek. He had a chuckle at the idea of his boss reacting like a wild animal when cornered and then his mind was distracted imagining Derek as different animals, finally settling on a wolf because it seemed the most fitting.

Once dinner was done, Stiles knew his mind wouldn’t be letting him sleep anytime soon once his dad left to head back to the station, he climbed into his Jeep and drove back to the beach. He wished that Scott were around but he knew he had a date with Kira that night, so that cut out night surfing; he’d had to promise his father a long time ago that he’d never surf alone at night because it was too dangerous. He’d broken the promise once and when his father had found out, the tears in the man’s eyes had been enough to guarantee Stiles would never break it again.

He parked near the shop, noticing the light from the small window in the office was still on and he frowned thinking about Derek working so late into the night and he wondered if the man slept at the shop. Adding it to the list of questions he’d never dare to ask, he headed down to the water, taking his shoes off as he reached the edge of the sand. He froze a few steps onto the beach when he spotted someone out in the water, a solo surfer barely visible except when the light from the lighthouse bounced off during each rotation.

“Idiot,” Stiles mumbled but kept moving closer to the water, watching the man’s form. It was nearly perfect, something Stiles aspired to but never managed with his sometimes gangly limbs and the reason he’d never tried to go pro. Settling into the sand close enough to the edge that the water licked at his bare toes occasionally, he watched, breath catching a few times when he was certain the man was going to wipe out and wanting to cheer when he’d regain control of the board.

He was so entranced that he hardly noticed as the figure grew larger, riding the waves towards the shore until they hopped off the board and dove under water, coming up and throwing their head backwards, an arc of water surrounding them. Stiles wished he had his camera at the ready to snap the image. He was still lost in imagining the photo framed and on his wall when water droplets hit his face.

He let out a yelp and flailed backwards away from the source of the water, ending up flat on his back on the sand and looking up at Derek. He was laughing. Laughing loudly and it was the first time he’d ever seen or heard such a thing and found himself chuckling lowly as he took the hand Derek offered and let him pull him to his feet. He continued gaping at the change in Derek as he ran a hand through his wet hair, bare bicep bulging and water dripping down his chest as his loud laughter faded into a quiet rumble.

“I didn’t know you surfed,” Stiles managed to get out and Derek shrugged. “Don’t you know it’s dangerous to surf at night by yourself?” Another shrug as Derek grabbed his board and headed back to the shop, Stiles trailing behind lecturing him still about the dangers of night surfing alone.

Derek pulled a key out of the inside pocket of his board shorts and unlocked the door. Stiles didn’t hesitate to follow him inside and lock the door behind them. Derek went into the office and came back out a few minutes later in cargo shorts, pulling a black vee-neck shirt over his head. 

“What brings you out on night surf patrol?” Derek asked, going into the backroom and coming back with two bottles of water, tossing one to Stiles.

“Couldn’t shut my brain off,” he said. He started to ask about the fire when Derek’s phone rang on the counter. He picked it up to hand it to him, recognizing his dad’s office number on the screen. “It’s my dad?” He decided to play dumb. “Why would my dad be calling you?”

Derek snatched the phone out of his hands, silencing it and sliding it into the back pocket of his shorts. “It’s none of your business.”

“It’s my dad!” 

“And I’m your boss,” Derek countered, heading into the back room and returning with a couple of beers. He held one out to Stiles, jerking it back just as Stiles tried to close his hand around the sweaty glass bottle. “You are of age, aren’t you?”

“Fuck you,” Stiles said, grabbing for the bottle and huffing when Derek held it above his head, just out of Stiles’ reach. “You have my employment file.” He jumped a couple of times before realizing what an idiot he was making of himself and he stopped, tilting his head as he studied Derek, eyes tracing down his arm from the hand holding the bottle and lips tilting into a smirk as an idea began to form.

Derek must have recognized the look on his face because his own triumphant grin began to fade and he took a step backward but left his arm raised. Stiles took his chance and dove at Derek, fingers digging into his armpit and forcing him to jerk his arm down with a squeal. Laughing, Stiles grabbed the bottle just before it fell and danced away from Derek around the counter.

“You’re an asshole,” Derek said.

“I know.”

They drank in silence, Derek watching Stiles warily. Eventually, the bottles were empty and Stiles realized he should probably be heading home because he was working the opening shift the next morning. He gave Derek a wave as he headed into the backroom to add the bottle to the recycling bin and headed towards the front door. He was just about to close it behind him when Derek appeared.

“I’ve seen you before,” he said. “At your dad’s office.” Stiles nodded. “I was there…” He trailed off and ran a hand through his hair. “How much do you know about the fire that killed my family.”

“Not much,” Stiles admitted, stepping back into the shop when Derek held the door open and locked it behind them. They walked into the office and settled into the two chairs on the same side of the desk, Derek rubbing his hands over his thighs. “Honestly, I hadn’t even put two and two together until tonight.”

“Did you come up with five?” Stiles snorted and shook his head. “I don’t know why I imagined you sneaking into your father’s office and going through his files.”

“Because that’s what I usually do, but never did with your case.” He told Derek about coming home to find his dad looking over the file that night and that was why he’d come back to the beach. “Why did you contact my dad when you came back to town and why are you avoiding his calls now?”

Derek rubbed both hands over his face and let out a frustrated sound. “Have you ever done something so bad that the very idea of talking about it makes you sick to your stomach?” 

Stiles knew giving an answering without thinking about it wouldn’t help the situation in any way, so he gave it some thought before nodding his head slowly, mind on the time he was so angry with his mother for forgetting him that he told her that he hated her. He looked at Derek, sharing the story and growing indignant when Derek hissed out a breath and shook his head.

“I killed my family,” he said after several minutes.

Stiles opened his mouth but nothing came out and his brain started planning escape routes before he realized that Derek hadn’t moved, wasn’t acting in a threatening manner. He sat slumped in the chair, eyes on the floor and when Stiles ducked his own head to look into his face, he couldn’t miss the tears glittering there and starting to fall, dripping into his lap. These weren’t the actions of a cold-blooded killer.

“I’m gonna need more than that,” he finally said, trying to stop his brain from jumping to conclusions. The only one he kept coming to was that Derek shouldn’t have to tell this story more than once. “Before you go into detail, why don’t we go see my dad?” Derek hesitated before giving a slight nod.

“I’ll drive,” Stiles suggested and Derek didn’t say anything, just grabbing his wallet and keys and following Stiles to the parking lot. 

The ride started off silently until Stiles couldn’t take it anymore and began talking about himself, sharing the stories of riding the bus to the beach, hoping for some kind of reaction from Derek. Finally when he told him about his father coming to pick him up and shoving him in the back of the police cruiser with the siren running, drawing the attention of everyone on the beach and humiliating him just enough to keep him from escaping to the beach without a permission for at least a month, Derek’s lips quirked just enough to make Stiles relax.

When they pulled up in front of the house, Derek’s entire body tensed up and he started shaking his head, muttering ‘no’ over and over under his breath. Stiles reached over and laid a hand on his arm. “Dude, I don’t know what you have to tell us, but my dad will know how to handle it.” He jumped when Derek laid a hand over Stiles’ on his arm and squeezed it.

They sat for a few moments until Derek reached for the door handle and opened it. By the time they made it to the porch, his dad was standing there, waiting for them and Stiles was relieved to see he was changed into jeans and a soft beige pullover. 

He held a hand out. “Derek, it’s good to see you, son,” he said, grinning when Derek took his hand. They shook for a minute and he slapped Derek’s arm with his other hand before gesturing for him to enter the house. 

The three of them settled in the living room, John in the recliner and Derek and Stiles on the couch. Derek was rubbing at his thighs again and Stiles scooted slightly closer so he could lay a hand on his back, rubbing small circles as his breathing slowed until he let out a large breath and swallowed audibly.

“I’m sorry I’ve been avoiding your calls, sir,” Derek started.

“Call me ‘John’,” he said. “The important thing is that you’re here now and I’m hoping ready to tell me what you’ve been struggling to tell me for the last ten years.” Derek nodded. “Do you mind if I record this?” Derek hesitated before shaking his head and John stood to leave the room.

“Alright?” Stiles asked when his father was gone. 

“No,” he responded and Stiles butted his head against Derek’s shoulder, giving him a soft smile that Derek returned weakly as John returned and laid a microrecorder on the coffee table closer to Derek, turning it on and stating all the legal mumbo jumbo required for interviews.

“Now, Derek, why don’t you tell me what you came here to tell me,” John said.

“I killed my family,” Derek said, repeating the phrase he’d stated earlier and Stiles didn’t believe it any more than he had the first time.

“Bullshit,” John said, startling both of them. “I don’t believe for one minute that the boy that had to be dragged from the porch of the house, screaming, yelling and nearly breaking one of my deputy’s jaws, was responsible for the deaths of his family.”

“I didn’t light the match, but I killed them,” he said.

“Does that mean you know who  _ did _ light the match?” John asked.

Derek swallowed hard and rubbed at his eyes, his knuckles coming back wet as he looked at Stiles who was still rubbing a hand over his back. He started to pull his hand back but Derek’s lips turned down at the corners so he returned to the movement, giving him an encouraging smile.

“Kate Argent,” he said.

“I knew it,” John said, slapping his hands down on his knees as he leaned over to grab the files off the table and flipping through them, pulling out a couple of pages and showing them to Derek. “She wore this necklace?”

Stiles glanced at the photo when Derek did, the drawing of a shield-shaped pendant with strange symbols on it. Derek nodded, his face slack in shock. “I knew it. The description was too dead on and credit card receipts proved she was there that night,” he muttered to himself as he flipped a couple more pages and pulled out a report; Stiles recognized it as a transcript of an interview.

“Adrian Harris came into the station to report having met a woman at a bar who once she discovered he was a chemistry teacher became very interested in chemical fires, talking to him for several hours and plying him with alcohol. He didn’t think anything of it until after the Hale fire and then he had a strong suspicion that the woman had something to do with it.” John turned a page running his finger down it until tapping it and looking up at Derek.

“Harris? From Beacon Hills High?” Derek asked.

“I knew that guy was an asshole,” Stiles said.

“Language,” John snapped, eyes switching to Stiles for only a moment before turning back to Derek. “I’ve worked with Chris Argent before so between the description on the woman and the credit card receipt, I was convinced that Kate had something to do with the fire, but when we showed a photo to Harris, he suddenly had trouble remembering that night.” He shook his head. “I tried to find Kate for questioning but she was gone and no one had any idea where she’d gone.”

“I looked for her, too,” Derek admitted.

“How did you know her? How well did you know her?” Something in his tone made Stiles’ skin crawl and he studied Derek’s face, looking for an answer that was anything but what his father seemed to be implying.

“I met her at the beach the summer before the fire. She told me she was a scout for a surfing team,” Derek began, his voice low and Stiles strained to hear, so he imagined that his father was having issues too, so he pulled the tape recorder closer. “She started showing up every day and we spent more and more time together and less and less talking about surfing.” He swallowed, running his hands through his hair and tugging on the ends. “By the end of summer, I was in love with her and I thought she was in love with me.”

Derek fell silent and Stiles looked to see his dad, flipping through the papers again, a frown on his face. “How old were you?”

“Sixteen,” Derek replied. “Before you ask, she was twenty-six. I knew it was wrong, but…” He trailed off. “But I loved her.” His cheeks pinked and Stiles would’ve thought it was adorable if the situation weren’t so serious.

“Do you know…” John started, trailing off and looking between the two before taking a deep breath. “Do you know why she wanted to kill your family?”

Derek shook his head. “I don’t. I just know that I was sleeping at her house when it happened. My cell phone woke me up and her apartment was empty. I raced home as quickly as I could and after I saw what had happened, I tried calling her...to...I tried…”

“You wanted to turn to her,” Stiles said, increasing the pressure and speed of his hand on Derek’s back. “You did what anyone in love would do when faced with tragedy.”

Derek nodded. “She didn’t answer and I kept trying. The next day her phone was disconnected and her apartment was empty.”

John huffed out a breath and rose to his feet. “This is all circumstantial,” he said. “Nothing that explicitly puts her at the scene of the fire. 

Derek arched his back, reaching into his pocket to pull out his wallet. He opened it carefully and pulled out an envelope in a plastic bag and handed it over. “That came to the school about a week after the fire, they sent it onto me in New York.”

John set it on the table, disappearing in the kitchen and returning, pulling on a pair of rubber gloves as he opened the bag, pulling out the envelope, removing the contents. Stiles watched tears spring to his eyes as he read over the letter inside and then turned his attention to the polaroid photograph. 

“Dad, what is it?” 

He looked up, his lips twisted into a grin. “We’ve got her.” He chuckled dryly and turned his attention to Derek. “I wish you would’ve come forward sooner, but the important thing is you did now.”

“Now, we just need to find her,” Derek said. 

“We’ll find her,” John told him, tone confident as he turned off the recorder and started gathering everything together. “I’m going to head into the station and file an official report on this.” Once everything was in a pile, he crossed to Derek, resting a hand on his shoulder. “Son, if you want to stay here, we have a spare room. You probably shouldn’t be alone after all of this.”

“I don’t want-”

“It’s not a bother,” Stiles told him. “Besides, I don’t think I want to be alone after all of that, so the company will be nice.” Derek pursed his lips and nodded.

John squeezed his shoulder once more before pulling Stiles up and into a hug, slapping him on the back before grabbing everything off the table and heading out of the room. They listened to his footsteps going up the stairs, probably to get changed into uniform. 

Stiles slapped his hands together. “Well, I could use a beer after all of that,” he said and Derek nodded, following him silently into the kitchen to get the beers and then up the stairs to Stiles’ room. “FIgured we could watch Netflix for a little while to try and get our mind off things.”

The silence stretched as they moved into his room. Stiles turned his laptop on as he moved towards his dresser, picking up the HDMI cord he kept on top and pulling open one of the drawers. “There’s a new surfing documentary that I’ve been wanting to check out. How’s that sound?” 

There was no answer and Stiles looked over his shoulder to find him standing awkwardly in the middle of the room in his denim shorts and tee. “I have sweats that’ll probably fit you.” 

“Okay,” Derek said, moving closer and taking the pants from him and then heading into the bathroom when Stiles pointed. 

Moving quickly, Stiles changed into his own sweats before Derek could catch him changing. He had the laptop hooked up to the television, queued to the documentary, by the time Derek came back in. The front of his hair was wet like he’d splashed his face with water and his eyes were red. 

“You can take the bed,” he said. “I’ll kick it on the desk chair.”

“I’ll take the chair,” Derek said, heading towards it.

“Oh, hell no. It’s way more comfortable than the bed. It’s all mine.” He was lying, but he was really hoping Derek would pass out during the movie because he couldn’t even imagine what kind of hell was going on in his head after the night they’d had. 

Derek held his hands up in surrender. Stiles smirked in triumph and turned to hit start on the laptop. He turned back around to find Derek settled in the computer chair, lips pressed together and eyes locked on the television. 

“Oh, hell no,” Stiles said, falling onto Derek’s lap. “This is my chair.” 

He poked at his sides, crowing triumphantly when Derek curled into himself and the two of them tumbled off the chair and onto the ground. They wrestled and poked and tickled until something on the television distracted Stiles.

“Amateur Youth Champion Derek Hale is up next,” the tinny voice of an announcer said and Stiles shoved Derek off of him and scrambled to stand, staring at the screen as a young, very young, Derek took to the surf. The movements were very similar to those Stiles had watched earlier that evening, but less fine tuned.

“Fuck. I knew your name sounded familiar!” he said, pushing Derek away when he tried to reach for the computer to turn it off. “I wanted to be you when I was a kid!” He was seriously starting to wonder how bad his memory was getting with all of the forgotten ones that had been coming to light in recent days. He turned on his heel and headed to his closet, standing on tiptoes to reach a box shoved to the back of the closet. He pulled it down and sneezed as dust flew in his face. He blinked back tears at his mother’s handwriting on the top of the box spelling out, “Mieczyslaw’s Surfing Obsession”. He hurriedly opened the box hoping Derek wasn’t able to make out the words and started digging through, finding what he was looking for. 

“You said we met before, but we really did,” he said, handing over the photo he was holding. 

It had been taken at a surfing competition his mother had taken him to when he’d first started surfing. She’d kept him home from school that day and snuck him out of the house after his father had left for work. They’d arrived at the beach and he’d followed his mother all over the sand; she’d been a woman on a mission. It was just before the competition started that she’d let out a quiet ‘yes’ and started pulling Stiles over towards a crowd of people. 

In the center had been Derek, a surfer that he’d been watching for months at the beach with his mom. He stared as his mom talked to Derek’s mom and then suddenly the two of them were standing with their arms around each others’ shoulders and saying ‘cheese’ for the camera. The proof of that moment now in Derek’s hand and Stiles was glad to see him looking as shell-shocked as he was by the memory.

“I remember this,” Derek breathed out. “My sister, Laura, called you my ‘first fan’ for years. She’d bring you up whenever I was beating myself up about something. ‘What would your first fan think?’ she’d say and I’d smack her. You became like a conscience for me.” He shook his head. “If only I’d thought about what you would’ve thought of Kate,” he whispered, handing the photo back.

Stiles looked over him, thoughts spinning as he tried to reassemble his reality around this new discovery. “I wouldn’t have judged you as harshly as you’re judging yourself. What happened to your family wasn’t your fault, it was hers.”

“But I…”

“But nothing,” Stile said. “There is nothing that can convince me that you are even remotely at fault for what happ-” He is head jerked around as something from the television caught his attention. “Did they just say…”

Derek was staring as well. “Argent,” he whispered as Stiles rewound the video and let it play again. 

The section was on a surfing family, The Argents, who were regular competitors on the circuit and also regular winners. It went on to list Kate and Chris Argent as winners in the eighteen to twenty-five category. “You were, what, twelve in the clip earlier right?” Derek nodded. “Four years before you met Kate.”

Stiles shut the movie off and pulled up Google. His fingers flew over the keys as he researched the Argent Family wins and losses. If he didn’t think he was a demon sent from hell for what she’d done to Derek and his family, he would’ve been impressed by her skill. She won just about every event she entered. Her brother Chris, a few years older than her wasn’t as good, but he stopped competing to become a coach and had a great many students join the Argent team and go on to be champions.

“Chris started coaching the year you turned sixteen,” Stiles said. “Who was your coach?”

“My mom,” Derek responded, settling on the foot of the bed. “I only ever competed as an amateur, I never wanted to go pro back then because I liked traveling with my mom.”

“Did Kate try to get you to go pro?”

Derek squinted his eyes and cracked his neck, Stiles waiting for an answer while he continued scrolling through pages of news. “Kate stopped competing the same year. In fact, she disappeared completely from the articles. He found no mention of her until one from a few years earlier about a young trick surfer named Allison Argent, Kate’s niece. The article questioned where the former champion had disappeared to but when Allison was questioned, she’d dodged the question and talked about her father instead.

“She never asked me to join their team. She just talked about how great things were being a pro.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “Fuck,” he muttered. “The night before the fire, I told her I was thinking about going pro and that my mother had a meeting the next day with a coach.”

“A coach that wasn’t Chris Argent,” Stiles said and Derek nodded before whirling around and punching his fist into the wall next to Stiles’ closet, a shower of drywall dust spitting back at him and covering him.

“It was my fault,” he said. “If I’d just joined Team Argent-”

“You said she didn’t ask you to,” Stiles interrupted, standing and grabbing both of Derek’s wrists before he could hurt himself any further. “You didn’t know and even if you did and still said ‘no,’ it still wasn’t your fault.”

“It doesn’t make any sense. She and her brother stopped competing. I wasn’t a threat to them!” Derek shouted.

“I can’t even begin to explain the inner workings of a brain like hers. Sometimes there is no motive that makes sense to sane people, another reason it wasn’t your fault.” Stiles emphasized the words, hoping at some point, they would sink in and he would start believing them. 

They stood frozen for a moment before it was like Derek’s strings were cut and he collapsed against Stiles, face buried in his neck and body shaking with sobs. Without hesitation, Stiles wrapped his arms around Derek and held him upright until the sobs tapered off. When Derek finally pulled away, rubbing at his eyes and looking a little wild, Stiles took his hand and led him over the bed. 

“Lay down and try to get some sleep,” he told him. “I’m going to call my dad and update him.”

Derek struggled to sit up but Stiles held him firmly against the mattress. “I won’t be able to sleep.”

“Just try,” Stiles said. “I’ll just be out in the hallway if you need me.”

“You need sleep, too,” Derek argued. “Shit, the shop. We’ll never be up in time.”

“I don’t need much sleep,” Stiles assured him. “As soon as I’m done talking to my dad, I’ll get some sleep and it’ll be enough to function tomorrow.”

Derek started to argue again but interrupted himself with a yawn. Looking sheepish, he laid back against the pillow and Stiles felt his eyes on him as he left the room. He grabbed his phone and dialed his dad as he slid down the wall to sit on the floor. 

“Stiles, I told you to get some sleep,” his father answered, sounding haggard.

“We got some more information. Probably circumstantial but could help point toward premeditation.” Stiles explained what they had discovered, his father interjecting with questions from time to time and the occasional groan of frustration.

“We’re having a hard time finding her,” he said once Stiles’ words were exhausted. “We’ve got a couple more leads but as far as we can tell, she’s literally disappeared. Now, go get some sleep and I’ll see you sometime tomorrow.”

He let his head fall back against the wall with a thud after he hung up, the disappointment and excitement of the day catching up with him. He thought about getting up and settling into the spare room but didn’t even get past the thought before his breathing evened out and he fell asleep.

Stiles jerked to attention when something shook his shoulder and his head bounced off the wall behind him. Rubbing at the injured area, he groaned, opening his eyes slowly to reveal Derek standing over him, eyebrows raised and lips pressed together tightly. 

“Shut up!”

“Didn’t say anything,” Derek countered, holding out a hand and helping him to his feet. Stiles stretched, his bones creaking and an elaborate screech filling the halls and when he was done, he found Derek glancing towards the stairs, tips of his ears pink. “Your father said to wake you. Something about breakfast.”

Stiles’ nostrils flared and he glared down the stairs towards the kitchen where the smell of bacon was originating. “Bacon, Dad? Really?” He hollered as he scrambled down the steps, missing two in the middle and he would’ve tumbled all the way to the bottom if Derek hadn’t caught him by the elbow, not releasing him until they reached the bottom.

“You’re a danger to yourself,” he muttered and Derek shrugged in a ‘what can you do?’ manner before heading into the kitchen.

“How was the hallway?” his father greeted him and gestured to the table where two plates filled with eggs and bacon and one with eggs and avocado waited. He gave his father a nod before taking his seat.

“You didn’t think to wake me and send me to bed?” he asked.

“There was already somebody in your bed.”

“Sorry about that, sir,” Derek said, poking at his eggs as John sat down and poked at his avocado with a frown.

John waved off the apology and they fell into small talk about the weather and the shop. When they were finished eating, Stiles picked up the plates to clear the table, nearly dropping them when he saw the time. “We gotta go,” he told Derek and his father took the plates and shooed them away.

By the time Stiles had changed clothes and driven just the wrong side of the speed limit to the beach without getting caught, they were only a couple of minutes late opening the shop. It was an overcast day so there weren’t many people on the beach and Stiles was relieved. Derek stood in the door, studying the few people braving the weather before turning back to Stiles.

“We’re closed today. You can go home and I’ll still pay you,” he told him. “I just want to go home and get some more sleep.”

“Liar,” Stiles said, smiling. “You’ll probably go home and practice glaring in the mirror.”

“Why practice what I’ve already perfected?” Stiles gaped for a moment before bursting into laughter. “Just go home. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Did you want me to come in?” Stiles asked, knowing he was scheduled off the next morning, but if Derek needed him to come in, he would.

Derek stared at him, brows furrowed in confusion before picking up the schedule off the counter and tapping the clipboard against the counter after he looked it over and glanced at the digital calendar on the wall. “Guess I’ll see you in two days.” He rubbed a hand over his face. “If the weather stays like this, I might just stay closed tomorrow, too.”

He started to ask if being alone was really the best thing for him, but Derek was already writing out a sign for the window that said, “We’ll be back when the sun is,” in his neat handwriting and Stiles couldn’t resist grabbing a yellow highlighter and drawing a bright yellow sun in the corner. He expected a glare from Derek but instead he moved the marker across the page to draw sunglasses and a smiley face on the sun. He also added a phone number to the bottom “in case of surf emergencies” before grabbing a piece of tape and heading for the door.

Stiles waited while he locked up and then walked with him towards the parking lot. He looked around for what might be Derek’s vehicle and was surprised when he saw him approach a soccer mom SUV. “What?” he asked, unlocked the door and spotted Stiles before he climbed inside the vehicle.

Stiles shook his head and laughed. ‘Not at all what I expected,” he said. “You got carrot sticks and juice boxes in there?”

Derek rolled his eyes. “Orange slices and water bottles, actually,” he deadpanned back before climbing into the car and slamming the door. 

He started the vehicle but didn't seem in any hurry to pull out; Sitles wondered what he was waiting for but got bored of waiting after about thirty seconds and got into the Jeep and started it up. As soon as the engine turned over, Derek backed out of his parking spot and turned right out of the parking lot heading towards the more expensive houses up in the hills while Stiles turned left to return home.

His dad’s cruiser was still in the driveway when Stiles got home but wasn’t anywhere on the first floor. He assumed he was sleeping and started to do the same thing when he spotted a stack of files on the coffee table. Inching closer, eyes on the stairs until he was seated on the couch and picking up the file. He flipped it open and found the file his father had already been looking at the night before.

The next file wasn’t as thick and when he opened it, he found notes that looked newer than the ones in the other folder. Flipping through the pages, he recognized it as a suspect file and the suspect was Kate Argent. He read over the newest entries and saw where his father had already searched for her and the dead ends he’d hit. Chewing his lip, he got an idea and put the file down, heading upstairs to his room and grabbing his laptop. 

As soon as he had it turned on, his phone buzzed and he pulled it out of his pocket, smiling at the text from Derek.  _ “Thank you.” _ Simple and to the point and completely unnecessary but absolutely appreciated.

_ “No problem, dude. I’m here if you need to talk more or just not be alone with.” _

He set his phone aside, not expecting any kind of response but his phone buzzed again and Stiles peeked at it, biting into his lower lip to try and hide his smile at the smiling emoticon on his lock screen.

Stiles jolted awake when his dad shook his shoulder. He’d fallen asleep bent over his laptop and was relieved his drool hadn’t short circuited it. He sat up, stretching and looked over at his father who was frowning, gaze locked on the screen that had come to life as Stiles’ fingers had grazed the touchpad.

“What did I tell you about looking into this case?” his father asked, frowning but his eyes were still tracing the screen.

“To stay out of it,” Stiles admitted and made to close out the open internet window but his father stopped his hand, moving it to hit the print button instead. 

“You found her,” he said, shaking his head as the wireless printer in his office whirred to life in the distance.

“Possibly found her,” Stiles said. “She hasn’t been in the news since about two months after the fire when she wiped out in that surfing competition and announced she was leaving the sport. I pulled photos of her niece competing and there were a few crowd shots where someone who might be Kate was in the background.” He pointed to the one on the screen, tapping a woman in the crowd with her hair pulled back under a Beacon Hills baseball cap and mirrored aviators over her eyes, but something about the set of her jaw reminded him of Kate and his father seemed to agree.

“Do you have a schedule for her niece…” He trailed off, looking at the ceiling for a moment. “Allison Argent?”

Stiles grinned and switched to a different window, the upcoming events page on the Argent Surfing website and tapped the screen once before sending it off to the printer as well. “She’s scheduled to appear at the surfing expo next month at the beach.”

“Well, won’t that be convenient if she walks herself right back into my jurisdiction. I’m still going to send some BOLOs to the other districts that Allison will be in until then.” He continued talking aloud to himself as he exited the room and Stiles reached for his phone to text Derek an update, knowing his father would want him to be in the know but was too distracted to think about it at the moment.

Derek didn’t text back, but Stiles shrugged it off and went about his day. It was still too overcast outside to do much of anything fun so he got caught up on laundry and other chores inside the house. He was digging through the fridge, getting rid of old food and compiling a grocery list when his dad left to head out to dinner with some of the deputies, a monthly gathering to encourage morale among the department. 

The next couple of weeks passed without incident. He and Derek started sharing meals whenever Stiles was working, conversation beginning to flow a bit easier between them. They even went surfing one evening after the shop closed and Stiles thought watching the sunset from his board was the greatest thing he’d ever seen, wishing he had a waterproof camera to snap photos. He told Derek as much and the next week the shop started selling the disposable waterproof cameras, so they did another sunset surf.

The date of the expo was drawing closer and he noticed Derek stopping and staring into the distance more and more often. Stiles would leave him be for a few minutes before calling him back to the present with some weird fact about surfing, counting it as a win when it not only grabbed his attention but got a smile or even a laugh out of him as well.

“You’re telling me Gidget was a real person?” Derek asked once and Stiles launched into the story of Kathy Kohner-Zuckerman.

“That is not a real thing!” he sputtered another time when Stiles told him what a ‘hang eleven’ was and Stiles was laughing too hard at his red face and ears to tell him that it was indeed when a man surfed naked.

Things were going really well so of course they had to go to hell even sooner than they’d expected. One week before the surf expo, Stiles was at home with his dad, cooking dinner when there was a knock at the front door.

“You expecting anyone?” John asked as he looked up from the newspaper he’d been reading in his recliner, trying to take advantage of some well-deserved rest now that he’d made some serious headway on Derek’s case.

Stiles shook his head and made his way to the door, thinking again about talking to his father about getting a video doorbell installed as he peeked through the curtains and jerked backwards when he saw Derek standing on the doorstep, hands shoved in his pockets and eyes locked on the wood of the door in front of him. 

“Hey?” Stiles greeted as he pulled the door open and Derek’s eyes dropped to their feet.

“Hey,” Derek echoed but made no further attempts at conversation.

“Did you need something?” Derek looked up at him, his green eyes meeting Stiles’ for the first time and he saw something there that chilled him and he stepped aside, gesturing towards the living room. “Come inside.”

John was on his feet and meeting them before they’d gotten too far into the house. He reached a hand out to grasp Derek by the shoulder. “Alright, son?”

“I think...I think she’s here,” Derek said, pulling something out of his pocket. Stiles spotted a small piece of paper inside another zipper bag as he handed the item over to his father.

He didn’t even get a chance to see the item before his dad was heading upstairs and Stiles knew he’d be heading out to the station even before he heard him talking to one of his deputies on the phone. Derek was still standing in the middle of the room, eyes glued to the floor and Stiles reached out and touched his elbow.

“Hey, did you know Patrick Swayze broke four ribs surfing while filming  _ Point Break _ ?” Stiles said.

Derek shook his head and snorted. “Who doesn’t?” he glanced around the room and his nostrils flared. “Is something burning?” 

His voice was tight, distracting Stiles from the actual question until he could smell it as well. Yelping, he raced for the kitchen to tug open the stove, waving away the smoke and giving a sad face to the cheese that had dripped off the edge of the crust and caught fire on the heating element at the bottom of the oven. Thankfully, the pizza itself was still in good shape. 

He grabbed the hotpads and pulled it out, setting it on the counter to cool for a minute while he shut off the oven and left it cracked open to air out. He glanced over his shoulder to find Derek standing in the doorway of the kitchen still looking uncomfortable. “Open the door, air the room out a bit,” he said and Derek followed his instructions just as John stepped through the doorway.

“Off to the station. Derek, why don’t you stay here for while we go check out your house,” he said, his tone reminiscent of how he talked to Stiles whenever he was worried about his well being. 

Derek nodded and pulled his keys out of his pocket. Stiles saw his hands shaking as he tried to pull his house key off and he laid his hand over Derek’s. “Just give them all to him. We can take my Jeep if we need to go somewhere.”

“I have a bag in my trunk. Spare clothes and toiletries,” he said. “I should grab it.”

“You have a go-bag in your trunk?” Stiles asked as his father went to retrieve it. “Smart idea.”

“No. I have it in my bedroom closet,” he said. “I grabbed it to go.” He looked towards the front of the house when there was the sound of something hitting the floor and John calling out his farewells.

“Were you going to keep going?” Stiles asked, moving Derek to the table as he cut up the pizza, plating it up and grabbing a couple cans of cola out of the fridge and balancing everything as he got to the table.

“I was,” Derek admitted, staring at the food and rising to get silverware out of the drawer, handing a set to Stiles who scoffed. “Then I thought of your dad and his determination. Of you and the shop and realized I didn't want to run away from Beacon Hills again.” He ducked his head and cut into his pizza.

They ate in silence, Stiles tapping his foot against Derek’s ankle anytime he seemed to get too lost in himself. They cleaned up together and headed into the living room, settling onto the couch and turning on the television, an old movie running as Stiles studied him. “What did you give my dad?” he finally asked, breaking the silence as it started tipping into uncomfortableness.

“Another polaroid,” he said. “This was taken from outside the shop. Of me in the shop yesterday.” He rubbed his hands over his thighs. “It was right after closing.” He stood and started to pace, his hands going to his hair. “She was that close. Not only to the shop, but to my house. The photo was in my garden when I got home tonight.”

“My dad is going to catch her and until then, you’ll just stay here,” Stiles told him and exited the room, heading into the kitchen to grab a couple bottles of water and some snacks.

Derek was still pacing when he came back into the living room and Stiles elbowed him and nodded towards his go-bag before heading up the stairs. It took a minute, but his heavier footsteps sounded behind Stiles just as he reached the top and headed into his room.

“We’ll watch movies in here,” he said and set the snacks down on his desk before grabbing pajamas out of his drawer. “I’ll go get ready for bed in my dad’s bathroom and you can use the one in the hall.” 

Derek nodded and Stiles left him, listening to see if he’d actually moved and followed his suggestion. He let out a breath when he heard the bathroom door creak shut just as he finished brushing his teeth. He hurried through the rest of his nightly ablutions, ending with swallowing his pills. His ADHD was better as he got older but he wasn’t naive enough to believe he’d get by without taking his medication regularly.

Derek was still in the bathroom when Stiles got back to his room, so he tried to straighten up a little bit before setting the bed up with extra pillows and blankets from the hall closet so that they could sit comfortably while the movie played. He wasn’t sure what Derek would like to watch so he was flipping through the main Netflix screen until he came back to the room, standing in the doorway looking awkward.

“I can go sleep in the spare room,” he offered, ducking his head and rubbing his hand over the back of his neck.

“You going to sleep?” Stiles asked, moving forward and holding the remote out to Derek who took it after a minute, a small smile on his face.

They settled onto the bed, Derek choosing a classic Monty Python film. They didn’t say anything for the first half an hour when Derek started talking. “I hate being afraid.”

“No one  _ likes _ being afraid, dude,” Stiles told him. “It’s not exactly listed on the positive emotions board, but you have a good reason to be afraid. That psycho killed your family.” He smacked himself in the forehead because that was the way to make him feel better by reminding him of the greatest tragedy in his life. “Sorry.”

“It’s true,” Derek said, shrugging and giving him a twisted smile and Stiles relaxed a little, bumping their shoulders together. “I thought that enough time had passed that I could come back here, come back to where I grew up, back to the waves I learned to surf on and it would be alright. I was wrong.”

“You are going to be alright,” Stiles told him, grabbing his bicep and shaking him. “My dad is going to catch her and put her in prison where she belongs and then you can do everything you want to do and not worry any more.”

“It would be nice not to have to keep looking over my shoulder all the time,” Derek admitted, “but it’s so hard to keep my hopes up for a normal life.”

“Normal is overrated,” Stiles said with a shrug. “And boring.”

He counted it as a win when Derek chuckled lightly and nodded, his attention focusing on the screen in front of them. It wasn’t long until they were both reciting lines along with the movie. “‘Tis but a scratch!” they shouted in unison, Stiles nearly falling off the bed with the force of his laughter. 

He would’ve hit the ground if Derek hadn't grabbed him by the arm and pulled him back upright, their faces close together and both of their laughter dying quickly on their lips as Derek’s eyes went from Stiles’ to his lips and back again. Stiles swallowed and licked his lips, reading to lean in when there was a bang from downstairs and Stiles’ dad was heard cursing, his boots hitting the wall with a thud, probably from kicking them off.

“That’s not a good sign,” Stiles said and chewed his lip when Derek raised his brows in a sarcastic way at him. “Shut up,” Stiles muttered, climbing off the bed and missing the moment they’d shared as soon as his feet hit the ground and the two of them headed downstairs together to find out what had upset John so badly.

“We didn’t get her,” he said before they’d even asked anything. “The dogs lost the scent as soon as they got to the road. There were some tire tracks and forensics is trying to match them but that’s a long shot.” He tugged at his hair. “Do you have a restraining order?” 

“Never had any real proof that I’d shown anyone,” Derek responded, looking sheepish. “Not until I finally showed you the photo. And now the photo tonight.” 

“Where was the photo left? Mailbox? Porch?” 

“There’s a...um...monument to my family in the garden. It’s a large stone with a triskele carved into it.” He moved his fingers in the air and Stiles recognized the tattoo from Derek’s back. “It was lying on the dirt at the base.” His eyes widened. “I have a wildlife camera.”

“What?” Stiles asked.

“I keep bird seed on the top of it because my mom loved birds and other animals sometimes stop by. There had been a couple of birds killed and I was curious what was doing it so I set up one of those outdoor motion detection cameras.” He took the stairs two at a time and practically leapt down the entire flight when he came back, phone in hand and fingers flying over the screen. He let out a crow and turned the screen so that Stiles and his dad could see the perfect capture of a woman laying something at the base of the memorial.

He slid the screen and they got a perfect profile and even Stiles could identify her as Kate Argent. “We got her,” John said. “Email me those photos and any others, even if it’s just an arm.”

“Yes’sir,” Derek said, working on his phone.

“Did you check with any of Derek’s neighbors? See if they have cameras that might have caught a car going by?” Stiles asked.

“Parrish is going to canvas the area as soon as the sun comes up. He’s already compiling a list of security companies that have clients in the area,” his dad told him. “We’ve also got extra patrols ready for the surfing expo. We  _ will _ catch her.” He said this to Derek who was still going through his phone but nodded in recognition of the words.

It took awhile for them to calm down enough to sleep and Stiles appreciated his dad not doing more than raising an eyebrow when he and Derek retired to his room to finish watching their movie. They sat on the bed together, still until Derek wrapped an arm around Stiles’ shoulders and pulled him into a hug and whispered ‘thank you’ into his hair. Stiles didn’t even need to ask what he was thanking him for, he just hugged him back and they fell asleep like that while the movie played on in the background.

The week up until the surfing expo passed quickly and without another appearance from Kate. His father helped Derek file a restraining order and the judge allowed it without too much hassle once he saw the photos and was told about the evidence pointing towards Kate as the culprit in the Hale fire. He issued a warrant for her arrest just after signing off on the restraining order and Derek left the courthouse with Stiles and his father by his side, smiling and laughing for the first time in weeks.

“You signed up to compete?” Stiles crowed, racing into the shop with a piece of paper in his hand. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Didn’t realize I had to clear my activities with you,” he said, raising an eyebrow from the sawhorses at the back of the shop where he was waxing his board. “It was a last minute decision,” he added before Stiles could protest anymore. 

“You are going to close the shop so I can come watch, right? Because if you don’t, I’m closing it anyway!”

“Greenberg begged for their job back, so it’s they’ll be manning the shop during the competition,” Derek told him, grinning when Stiles cheered.

He stood on the edge of the crowd, as close to the barrier as he could get, eyes locked on Derek where he was stretching on the sand next to his board. The lycra of his wetsuit stretched across his butt in a way that made Stiles glad he was wearing loose-fitting board shorts. He thought back to the almost-kiss at his house the week previous and wondered if it had been a fluke, nothing had happened since but when Derek won this thing, there would be no stopping him from kissing him. If Derek got upset, though he didn’t think he would, he’d blame it on the excitement of the win. 

He could see his father down near the water talking to a few of the lifeguards and there had been several deputies stationed at all entrances to the beach since early morning. Stiles had a sinking feeling in his stomach every time he thought about Kate but he had confidence that she wouldn’t be able to get past his father and the others.

The competition started, Derek lining up for the second set of swimmers. The first included the Argent girl, Allison, minus her arrows. She would be doing a demonstration of her trick skills later. The heat ended with her in first place and there was a five minute break before Derek’s group would hit the water. He saw Derek looking around and waved, grinning when his face broke into a relieved smile and he jogged over to him.

“You got this,” Stiles told him. “You’ll win without a problem.” He waved invisible pom-poms and enjoyed the warmth of Derek’s laughter.

“What do I get if I win?”

“ _ When _ you win,” Stiles corrected, “I’ll take you out to dinner wherever you want.” Derek raised his eyebrows, looking unimpressed. “Okay...what do you want?”

“A date. I pick you up, take you to dinner, movie, walk on the beach and if all goes well, back to my place,” he said, face serious. 

“Uh...okay,” Stiles said. “And if you lose, I want the same thing.”

“Deal,” Derek said, reaching out to run a thumb over Stiles’ warm cheek before leaning in and pressing a kiss to his forehead. “Wish me luck.”

“Luck!” he called out as Derek ran to grab his board and join the group waiting to hit the waves.

The heat consisted of three waves and the first two were good, really good. Derek’s form was excellent, not even a single visible tremble in his body that Stiles could spot from this distance. He wished he’d brought his binoculars as Derek headed out for his last wave. Stiles held his breath as Derek popped up on his board, his form again stellar. Stiles started to let out a cheer when he heard a heart-wrenching sound and saw Derek fall off his board and go under. 

Lifeguards were running towards the water while his father and the other officers were running towards the cliffs behind the crowd. His dad was shouting into the radio on his shoulder and Stiles’ heart sank as he jumped over the barrier and ran towards the water. His dad tried to tell him to go back as they crossed paths but Stiles ignored him, diving into the water and following the lifeguards out to where Derek had fallen. 

He reached the group of people, Derek’s board bobbing along in the water, grabbing ahold and pulling himself up onto it just as two of the lifeguards pulled Derek out of the water and onto a spineboard hooked up to a jet ski. His face was pale and there was a spread of blood over his chest coming from a very real bullet hole. He swallowed a cry as the lifeguard, Danny, told him to stay back but bring Derek’s board back to shore.

Another lifeguard was radioing to the shore where an ambulance was driving through the crowd right onto the beach. Stiles paddled after them, barely managing to keep up when Danny shouted for him to grab onto the spineboard and they would pull him in as well.

Stiles held on and studied Derek who still wasn’t moving but he could see his chest rising and falling shallowly while the blood continued to pump despite the pressure Danny was applying to his chest. “Don’t be dead,” he whispered under his breath. “Please, don’t be dead.”

As soon as they hit the shore, Derek was wrenched away from him and carried to the ambulance. His dad grabbed him before he could climb in behind him. “Dad, I have to-”

“Go. You tell him when he wakes up that we got her. We really got her,” he told Stiles, tears in his eyes. He stared as his father, the words not sinking in, even when the paramedic threatened to shove him out onto the beach if he didn’t get in so they could go. “Call me when you know something. I’ll come up later,” his dad called as the doors to the ambulance clanged shut and the ambulance started moving.

They hurried Derek away as soon as they got to the hospital and Stiles tried to follow but Scott’s mom was there to stop him. She shooed him into the employee lounge, settling him down in a chair and putting a can of Coke in front of him before wrapping him in a blanket. “Scott will be here shortly with dry clothes for you,” she told him. “Stiles, nod if you hear me.” He nodded. “Good. Love you, kid.” She pressed a kiss to the top of his head.

“Love you, too, mom,” he said, blinking when he realized what he’d said and shared a sad smile with Melissa.

He didn’t know how long he sat there before Scott appeared and had to practically change him himself because Stiles was still staring at the wall across from him. He was barely blinking; every time he closed his eyes he saw Derek again and his heart sped up until he couldn’t breathe. At some point, his father came into the room and pulled Stiles into a hug filling him in about everything that happened with Kate. There was even a doctor or two that came through, checking him over but didn’t seem concerned enough to move him other than to wrap him in a blanket and give him more caffeine.

It wasn’t until Melissa came back into the room and sat down across from him, taking his face in her hands, saying, “Derek’s awake,” for Stiles to come completely back to himself. He blinked at everyone surrounding him, feeling guilty for the looks on their faces. “He’s asking for you,” Melissa said and Stiles rose, following her out of the room.

As they went upstairs, Melissa told him that the surgery to remove the bullet went well and that it had missed anything too vital. He’d have a long recovery but he would be fine and would surf again one day. She stopped outside of a room and gestured to the slightly open door. Stiles peeked through and saw a very groggy Derek sitting in the bed, head tilted towards the windows where the sky was dark but the sun was beginning to rise in the distance painting everything in a soft pink glow.

“Derek?” he whispered, entering the room. Derek turned to look at him, a smile spreading across his still pale face as he reached out a hand to Stiles. “Derek!” he shouted, racing to him, grabbing his hands and barely holding back from jumping on top of him on the bed.

“What happened?” he asked.

“You were shot,” Stiles said and bit back a smile at the unimpressed look on Derek’s face. “Kate snipered you.”

“They know it was Kate?” he asked. “How?” His voice was full of so much hope that Stiles couldn’t get the words out fast enough.

“They got her. One of the deputies found her as she was running away from where she’d shot you. They wrestled her to the ground and she was babbling and shouting and calling you all sorts of names. She basically admitted to everything.”

Derek’s eyes filled with tears and he kept swallowing hard. Stiles picked up the foam cup on the overbed table and held the straw to his lips. He took a few sips before pushing the cup away. “It’s over?” 

“There will probably be a trial, but I’d say it’s pretty much over,” Stiles told him, running a hand through Derek’s hair as he relaxed back against the bed, eyes fluttering shut. “Sleep now. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

“I lost,” Derek muttered before yawning. 

“Doesn’t matter,” Stiles said. “You’ll surf again.”

“The bet,” Derek said, eyes opening but still fuzzy from morphine. “Dinner, movie, beach…” he drifted off while talking and Stiles grinned before pressing a kiss to his forehead and whispering. “I’ll hold you to that.”

**Two Months Later**

It was the official end of the season, school was back in session and the tourists were non-existent. Stiles packed up the last of the novelty shirts from the rack closest to the door and turned to look at the empty shop, sadness filling him. He’d spent the last two months running the shop while Derek recovered from the shooting and involved himself in Kate’s trial. She’d been sentenced to life and then some the day before and they’d had dinner with his dad the night before to celebrate. 

The shop had officially closed the day before and now Stiles was finishing up packing the merchandise away for storage until the following season. He’d convinced Derek to set up an online store to try to sell some of the stuff off during the off-season and had been thrilled when he’d been given the go ahead. Stiles and even used the website in his portfolio for job hunting after graduation. 

Despite seeing Derek almost every day since the shooting, they still hadn’t gone on the date they’d discussed and Stiles couldn’t help feeling that the entire thing had been drug-induced nonsense on Derek’s part so he let it go and just enjoyed the time he had with him. He knew they were friends and probably even more than friends but he had no title for what they were and it really didn’t even bother him all that much.

He looked around the shop and shut off the lights. He’d come back the next day to dust and vacuum before shuttering the glass doors and windows and then he’d be done with the physical shop until the next season. 

Leaving the shop, he locked the door up behind him. Turning around, he let out a screech when he ran into Derek who was chuckling and gripping him gently by the biceps. “What the hell?” Stiles said.

“You busy?”

“If you count going home and watching movies by myself as busy, then yes,” Stiles told him, laughing.

Derek shook his head. “Do you have time for that date then?”

“What date?” 

Shaking his head, Derek stepped back and gestured towards the beach. Following his arm, he saw the glow of candles on the beach and he gaped at Derek, allowing him to lead him towards the beach with a hand on the small of his back. A small blanket was laid out on the beach with electric candles surrounding it in a circle in the sand.

“Are you planning to sacrifice me?” Stiles teased.

“I only sacrifice virgins,” he teased back. Stiles stared at his toes and Derek nudged him. “Seriously?” Stiles shrugged. “Still not sacrificing you,” he assured.

Settling down on the blanket, Derek opened a cooler bag and pulled out hamburgers and curly fries from the diner and Stiles’ stomach let out a large grumble. Derek laughed and pushed an extra helping of fries towards Stiles before reaching into a backpack and pulling out a laptop. 

“Movie?” Stiles asked and Derek nodded, opening the laptop and the menu for  _ Point Break _ filled the screen. “Great choice.”

They ate and watched the movie together in comfortable silence. When he was done eating, Stiles leaned into Derek, pulling his arms around himself and snuggling as close as he could without knocking him over in the sand. As the credits on the movie rolled, Derek rose to his feet and held a hand out pulling Stiles to his feet and not letting go as they started to walk down to the shoreline.

They walked, talking about everything and anything, until the sun disappeared completely into the water and then headed back to clean up the picnic.

“I can’t believe a few months ago you couldn’t even stand to look at me,” Stiles said, wanting to smack himself when Derek looked up at him in surprise. “The first day at the shop, you looked like you smelled something bad and that talking to me was painful.”

“It wasn’t because I couldn’t stand to look at you. It was my first official day as a business owner and as soon as you walked into the shop all I could think about was kissing you. I didn’t think that would make a very good impression as your boss,” Derek explained, the tips of his ears glowing red as he did.

“You...wait...you thought...you wanted...what the hell, dude! We could’ve been doing this months ago!” Stiles exclaimed, grabbing a handful of sand and throwing it at Derek, ducking when he returned the gesture and yelping when Derke tackled him into the sand next to the blanket, nearly knocking over a couple of the candles.

They froze, looking into each other’s faces and Stiles was reminded of that night in his bed all those months before. He felt his eyes drift shut in anticipation of feeling Derek’s lips against his and left out a disappointed sigh when Derek’s weight disappeared from atop of him. 

Blinking open his eyes, he saw Derek holding out a hand and grinning at him. “Still interested in night surfing?” Derek asked and Stiles nodded, following Derek back to the shop and through to the back where Derek moved a couple of things to reveal two brand new boards, one blue and one red. “Pick one,” he told him before handing over a wetsuit that was run through with blue and red striping and pulling off his shirt to reveal a matching one.

Stiles grabbed the blue one because blue was just pretty and followed Derek back out to the water. “Sure you’re ready for this?” Derek teased. 

“I’ve gotta be crazy,” he said as soon as he stepped into the ice cold water.

“But are you crazy enough?” Derek called as he immediately started paddling after him, laughing loudly.

“There’s no one crazier!” he shouted to him and Derek’s laughter floated back to him on the night breeze. 

Once they were far enough out, Derek sat up straddling his board and waited for Stiles to catch up and mirror the position. “It’s been a hell of a summer,” he said.

“Sure has,” Stiles agreed. “What are you going to do now that the shop is closed?”

“Thinking about writing a book. Figure I’ve got a lot of crazy shit in my life that people would pay a lot to read.” He shrugged. “I used to get good grades in creative writing.”

“Sounds great,” Stiles said. “One last year and then graduation for me. Gonna be crazy to get my classes finished.”

“Gonna make time for me?” Derek asked, gripping Stiles’ knee and pulling him closer.

“How can you even ask?” Stiles said, leaning in to press his lips to Derek’s not wanting to miss the chance again. “All my time is yours.”

“Be careful, I just might take you up on that,” Derek teased, deepening the kiss as the waves bobbed underneath them until a fairly big one sent them both off of their boards and into the water with a splash.

When they broke through from the water, Stiles couldn’t help staring at the way the water dripped from Derek’s hair and over his face. He’d started the summer with a new boss that he wanted to strangle and ended it with a boyfriend he wanted to kiss. 

So he did.

**Author's Note:**

> Major Character Injury and Hospitalization spoilers: Kate shoots Derek while he's surfing. He goes to the hospital and has surgery but he's fine.
> 
> Come say 'hi' on tumblr! I'm [jojournal](HTTP://josjournal.tumblr.com) over there!


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